


Patterns

by perryvic



Category: The Fionavar Tapestry Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Repeating patterns in the Tapestry  are inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patterns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jan Levine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jan+Levine).



The waters of the lake were calm by moonlight, barely ruffled by the cooling breeze that made it such a pleasant place to sit even in the warmest of Fionavar summers.  It was not the coolness or convenience that had drawn Paul outside to look out at now familiar stars.  A tension like that which preceded summer thunder rolling from the salt filled waves roused him, and sent him outside to where the bannions’ scent lay heavy in the night air. He left Jaelle asleep, exhausted  after  yet another spate of arguments with their twins. They’d reached their teenage years with all the fiery intensity of their parents intact and fuelled by the sureness of youth.

 

He could sense an old feeling seeping into his bones; something familiar and heavy, as if a mantle had dropped on him, years fleeing beneath its weight. He could have been standing on the fields of Camlann once again with the power to change the endless patterns of life and rebirth burning beneath his skin.

  
His eyes caught on a splash of silver fur in the moonlight at the edge of the water, and the answer came to him on the thought wings of ravens. “Galadan.”

The wolflord rose from his wolf form to stand as one of the andain before him, his silverlock gleaming in the moonlight brightly and as distinctive as his scars.

 

“Twiceborn.”  The arrogance had faded, though the strength of the half god remained. “Well met.  I have been sent to you… Paul.”

  
Paul. That was unusual. Very few people called him by his name from Earth. It had become something private, an endearment of sorts and in their few encounters, the wolflord had not dared that intimacy. Jaelle used it when they were drawing together, in their own secret darkness. He felt the reaching of something in the use of his name that he would never have dreamed that the andain would ask. He wanted a favor, a service.

 

“You seek something from me?” Paul asked never taking his eyes from him. “I have no power Galadan.”

  
To his surprise the tall andain laughed at his words, gruff and deep. “You? No power? You are the Twiceborn. The Arrow of the God. The opener of gates between worlds, as we both well know.  You have not aged Pwyll, though the priestess has… or are you pretending not to notice?”

Damn him. Paul tried to remain implacable, but he hadn’t practiced concealing his thoughts for some time. “We have decided that it is to do with my origin on Earth.”

Galadan shook his head, his grin clearly wolfish in amusement. “You live at the sufferance of the God. Your life is his, Twiceborn, and it is for him to take. You will live until he has no further use for you or spends your life in his purpose. You can feel that purpose, now, can’t you?”

 

Paul didn’t have to answer because the lake trembled to an unheard thunder and the Godwood burned in his mind like a beacon. “Speak your news, Galadan. I may have forgiven you with the voice of the god but the man still remembers.”

 

“Then hear this,” Galadan said, serious again and intent. “Once again, an andain seeks a father he believes abandoned him and a pattern repeats on the Weavers Loom. But herein lies the difficulty, for unlike the rest of us, the blood given to him is of your world. There his powers will flourish, nurtured by the nature of the place.”

Thought, Memory. The voice of the goddess in the glade, in a meeting he never saw , a name given in remembrance for a friend he honoured  every year as Dun Maura called. “Kevin. He has come into his powers?”

“He has been… developing, yes. He came into his powers a long time ago Pwyll.” Galadan paced in the moonlight and looked at him with eyes glowing. “Here though, Ceinwen of the Bow could contain him. But now, he has crossed worlds, and he has taken the mages with him.”

That was news and Paul shifted slightly. “All of the training mages? Tabor and Vinn, Vrorsha, Kerith and Valeron?”

“The one you knew as Vinn  is Kevin, Twiceborn. He has made them his circle and has gone searching the worlds beyond for the answers no one would tell him here.” There was a hint of reproach in Galadan’s voice and that stilled Paul’s troubled thoughts.

“You do not get to lay that blame at my feet, Wolf-lord. I made my position clear and it was those of the Mormae and the High King who decided that he should remain untainted by other worlds.”  Lesser worlds, Aileron had called them and he had pride in his origins, enough so, the words stung. The King still had an unyielding core and they clashed often enough that Paul did not seek the Court of Brennin unless invited.

 

“I am not one to blame. Cernan of the Beasts and Ceinwen have spoken. They do not wish old patterns rise up in the Tapestry.” Galadan paced uneasily, his discomfort evident.

“And they have decided this should be your penance?” Paul watched him, a shadow-figure flitting back and forth in the moonlight.

  
The words stung the Wolf-Lord enough that he whirled on him, teeth gleaming, and Paul stood there calm and relaxed, facing him down.

 

“Only as much as it will be your own,” he answered. “We must seek him and the mages. Who could they send seeking through worlds when all those trained to make that passage are with him? Only one other has slipped between worlds without touching the avarlith and they will not let me seek alone.”

 

Himself, as Galadan well knew, as it was him pursuing him that had forced him to find the well of that dormant power to save himself and Jennifer. The Arrow of the God, sent through necessity through the walls of worlds to bring a child of the andain to the Darkest Road. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had saved Darien and kept him on Earth. But that was a pattern that perhaps only existed in the mind of the Weaver. He wanted to say no, but the thunder in his blood rumbled a warning and he turned to Galadan. “Just us?”

 

“Yes,” he replied, and turned as if to beckon him away and Paul shook his head.

 

“Twiceborn I might be, but I am also a husband. I will come with you, Galadan, but even the God knows the wisdom of not offending a wife needlessly. Come for me when the sun rises and then I will come with you.”

 

Galadan did not look happy, but from the way he shifted into his great wolf form, Paul took that as an agreement. Somehow he felt that dealing with the once first lieutenant of the Dark would be simple compared to dealing with his wife.

~*~

 

“There are times when I believe all your brain has been stolen away in your sleep!” Jaelle snapped at him. “You thought it was safe to stand before Galadan, your mortal enemy? To discuss crossing between worlds as if proposing a walk along the shore of the lake. You have evidently taken leave of you meagre senses.”

 

It was going about as well as Paul had predicted. “I have crossed worlds before,” he said mildly.”It is not as if the Priestesses of Dana will help.”

 

“You have not even consulted them,” Jaelle answered, still defensive even now.

“Jaelle… Jaelle, love, this is something I must do.  A payment, if you will,” Paul tried to explain, though he did not fully understand the need with in him himself.

 

“Have you not paid enough?” she asked angry on his behalf now. “What can there be left to pay for?”

“Our children. Will and Jennara. You know that.” It was perhaps inevitable that the son and daughter of a once High Priestess of Dana and the Twiceborn of Mornir should show a talent and aptitude for the magical arts.

“They will not be mages,” Jaelle said adamantly, treading the familiar ground of a well-worn argument.

 

“The ability is in them both. Mages, Priestess, Seer… I do not know until they make their choices,” Paul said, as calmly as he was able. “For all our wrangling you know it will be them who decide.  As long as the andain does not believe he needs new mages.”

Jaelle hesitated and then sat. He had learned how to stand the quixotic weather of her thoughts and emotions. He could see her settling to the icy calm calculation that he remembered from the moment he saw her in Fionavar that set her apart from those around her. It was strange that in those moments he sometimes felt the strongest connection to her for he understood the feeling of separation all too well.

 

“He will not have them,” she said fiercely. “Cannot, will not. I will not allow it.”

His Jaelle,  sometimes ice, sometimes a fire that never ceased to be unpredictable and keep him from being complacent. “Yes,” Paul agreed. “Which is why I must go. Perhaps this is a misunderstanding but you don’t expend the strength to cross between worlds on a whim.  And if they did, perhaps they are lost. All worlds find a source here in Fionavar, but that river of time and space splits and splits again and they could have ended anywhere.”

 

They were not trained fully and he didn’t know how he knew this knowledge of the skylore but now he had learned to accept that knowledge as truth.

 

“I would not worry if I thought you could control your power,” Jaelle answered, with a sharpness in her voice. “But still you cannot.”

 

Another old argument and Paul was not going to give her the comfort of a familiar sparring match that would delay him. “No, I cannot.”  He looked her straight in the eye. “But I feel it in my blood and if it stirs of its own will there is need. You know that better than anyone. If not for the twins I would say come, for no worlds could hold fear for me with you there.”  He smiled at her, and her expression gentled.

 

“I would fear for you but the Godwood will anchor you here, now and forever ,”she said. “When are you to leave?”  She was still beautiful even if age touched her where it was passing him by.

“I agreed to meet him in the morning,” Paul said. “We will go then and hunt for them through the worlds.”

“But they will go to the world from which you came…” Jaelle said and then frowned. “Ah,  they are not fully trained. Power without direction.”

Paul nodded. “And who is there to show them how if Teyrnon would not? The High Priestess of Dana? No, they will not know yet. The sky-lore is as protected as the secrets of the Mother. “

“And how will you track them?” she asked calm now and thoughtful and Paul knew there would be no more arguments about this, at least not until he returned.

 

“Galadan is a wolf,” he replied. “And if there is one thing a wolf knows is how to hunt.”

~*~

 

Vinn looked around at the new world where they had crossed again, hearing the crystal tree structures start to sing as the warmth of larger sun caressed over their sparkling filigree diamond fronds.  It was beautiful, but he had no time for beauty. Things came easy to him but this quest of his was proving remarkably difficult and it did not sit well with him to be  thwarted.

The young Dalrei mage beside him was grinning in the sheer glory of it all, reaching out with a hand that seemed to grasp rainbow shards, scattered over every surface. “Oh Vinn, you were right! Look at these wonders, brightest threads of the Weavers Loom! The other worlds are full of wonders as you described and the trees… I can hear them singing.”

“We cannot stay,” Vinn answered, turning away from the spectacle that was holding his fellows in thrall.

 

Muttering protests surrounded him and Vinn looked up. Vrosha approached him and stood there, frowning with her dark southern eyes, intent and calculating. “Once again you say we must move when barely have our feet touched this soil.  There are wonders here… a world of living gems, an echo of Fionavar etched in crystal. Surely this is a world where the Dwarves would abandon the shores of Calor Diman to see! And before, the world where the elements were woven of magic and flew like birds to our hands, eager to do our bidding…why? Why must we move?”

“Because…” Vinn fell silent. “Because we can,” he said eventually. “I thirst for new and interesting.”

“And this is not?” Kerith said, and looked around, gesturing to the dazzling lights and colors around him. “A man could spend a lifetime just here contemplating the differing shades of sunlight over the crystal forest and would see something new in each moment.”

 

Vinn scowled a little. His coterie of young mages  were all sharp and perceptive; Tabor, touched by the Goddess, powerful and intuitive, Vrosha determined to be a female mage not a bound source, and like a tornado in temperament. Kerith, sharp and analytical and Valeron who watched and spoke little save to cut through all argument.

 

“He quests,” Valeron said and as ever the surprise of hearing his voice ensured they all listened.

 

“Quests?” Tabor looked back at him. “If you seek something Vinn, then why do you not tell us? We wanted to see worlds that they said we were not ready to see. We know more than they believe, we who were touched by the Last War grew hardy and fast…”

“…and they could not see that we surpassed the levels of their training,” Vrosha said. “We are strong, we can wield the sky magic without a bound source!”

 

Vinn looked down. Because of him and the gift of it he made to his friends. Because he was of the andain and the sky magic sang to him. He would be a sky-lord, his avatar form a falcon stooping in a blazing sun-arrow from heaven to earth and yet…

 

He could not answer why his father had left him. Or why he had not attempted to find him, or know him or *want* him. There was a hunger there, for wanting what he could not have as most else came easily to him. They did not know, though they knew he was powerful. How could they not? Magic flowed around him, free and growing as the green things in the dark woods were his mother hunted. She nurtured him until he grew and then he was like all growing wild things to her, sent to the world to find his own way. She was elusive in the Greenwood and the human part of him wanted more than just a brief fleeting contact. He wanted to belong somewhere and how could he choose when it seemed all rejected him?

 

“I seek… someone,” he said after a pause. “One of the Heroes of the Last War. Davor of the Axe.”

“Davor?” Tabor was immediately interested. “He is counted among the Dalrei. Why do you wish to find him?”

 

“I have my reasons,” Vinn said coldly, his dark eyes gleaming with a green fire until he caught sight of Tabor’s worried expression. Perhaps he should try a different approach. “Do you not all wish to see the origin of the Five? The world they called Earth that brought forth these heroes? Jennifer herself, the Seer, Davor of the Axe, Liadon and Pwyll the Twiceborn? Where the Warrior himself was laid to rest!”

He could tell he had interested them for the tales of the Last War were sung often in all the lands of Fionavar and their names were revered.

 

“Then why did you not ask to speak to Pwyll?”  Vrosha asked, frowning as she contemplated his words. “Travelling to a specific other world is hard unless you can reach to it with your mind or have a point of reference. His blood is of that world, it would have called across time and space when joined with the thought in his mind.”

“And then I would have had to explain why,” Vinn replied evading the real issue. He knew without knowing the Twiceborn would have seen him and recognised him as andain. He was trying to find his place and the sky mages suited his instincts and interests. He did not wish to be unmasked. The andain were not popular, even though Darien had made himself a sacrifice for them all. “What we have done is… not allowed and I do not want Teyrnon hunting us through worlds.”

“He would not be able to find us,” Kerith said slowly. “We have left no traces.”

It was dawning on his group that this was not necessarily a good thing and Vinn stepped in. “We are safe and secure. I do not mind us looking, for we can take a piece of the world with us to act as a point of reference back.” To demonstrate he picked up a small crystal that shone like a rare sapphire and put it in his pocket. “I would like to return here some day.”

  
He would like to fly over the forest of crystal and see each detail with his falcon’s gaze, find a crystal thermal and ride it into the sheer sky and see the rainbows dancing as the sun paced its stately path. But there was no joy in him now, not with his head filled with questions and heart hollow with waiting.

 

“But I would like to find this …world of heroes, to meet if I can the Seer,  and Davor of the Axe,” he said in a softer voice. “I cannot explain why, only that it is a form of compulsion. I am sorry to have  brought you here like this, without mentioning it. I did not realise my impatience would be so great. I ask your forgiveness.”

 

Tabor nodded slowly. “If you had asked then perhaps we could have helped you fulfil your ambition.”

 

Vinn was surprised at the offer and looked directly at the young Dalrei Mage. His dark eyes were older and wiser than his years and he seemed to see right into him, piercing his secrets. He had the discomfiting feeling that Tabor has somehow intuitively realised he really wanted to find his father.

 

“You would do this?” he asked unable to hide the incredulity in his voice and Tabor stepped forward and rested his hand on his arm.

 

“You are our friend. Of such weavings is the Tapestry made,” he said simply. “I would not see you seek alone when I could help.”

It was simple and direct and as before, his bitterness smoothed under the gentle offer, and resolve replaced anger.

 

“Then let us continue, and for each world we would like to return to, then let us take a token so we may return there whenever we wish,” he said with a  faint smile and the others agreed with a simple nod and moved into the circle around him.

 

He drew the magic around them, sourcing all of the new mages, free and unbound but giving willingly in a way no other could even as they chanted the words of power. And as they blurred again and he felt them reaching across the barriers of time and space,  Vinn thought desperately _‘this time, oh gods and goddess, please, this time...”_

 

~*~

 

This world was hot and crowded , the air redolent with spices, noise and jabber. Paul had no idea how Galadan was able to track anything in this chaos and he was being little help at all. Somehow he was able to step them between the worlds, imagining Galadan pointing the way like a faithful hound – which he knew would be a mortal insult to the wolf-lord if he dared suggest it. But once there, it was as if his purpose ended.  Soor’IshKa as this world was apparently known was a little like the markets of Marakesh,  where beautiful women walked  jingling with tiny bells in their hair and slow smiles as he stood waiting for Galadan to do whatever it was that he did. The heat did not touch him, but the memory of that first summer where he hung upon the Summer Tree in sacrifice, rose up, bidden by the touch of thirst that lingered. He gratefully  took an offered chilled juice, not knowing how to pay until he realised that Galadan had done so.

“You have currency?” he asked sipping the drink. It was cold and tart,  with a citrus tang that was refreshing.

 

“Perhaps you forget I do have powers,” Galadan said with a raised eyebrow . “It is a simple thing.”

 

Not something Paul could do himself, which considering the authority he held among even the gods themselves was more than a little irritating. “What have you found?”

“We are closing on them,” Galadan replied, with great satisfaction. “The trail is only a couple of days cold. “

“Haven’t you worked out a pattern?” Paul asked, finishing his drink, and Galadan gave him a definite look.

 

“Haven’t *you*?” he replied. “There is no pattern because they are moving randomly themselves.”

Paul considered this even as temple bells ran out behind them. “The only random thread is that of the Wild Hunt. Even choices we make are affected by who we are, what we believe and strength of will. So how is it that they are not going where they want to go?”

 

Galdan’s eyes glittered a moment. “Kevin has not told the others of their destination. Their thoughts will be flying in many places and this will jostle them to different  worlds. When they are of one accord, then they stand a better chance – only, there are many worlds that are similar and finding the right one...”

 

Paul felt something shift in him. “That will happen soon,” he said and his voice spread a stillness and urgency that silenced the crowds around him. “We must stop following them and find worlds where they are likely to be, ones similar to my home but not exact.”

The other andain nodded slowly, still looking at him warily as he did when any of Mornir’s powers manifested, but Paul placed his hand on his shoulder and let him lead him to another passage way between worlds. They had to find them before events over took them all.

 

~*~

Another world fully of the strange moving machines,  tall buildings, and people. He had lost count of the variations upon a theme that they had passed through separated by details that seemed trivial to them. Sometimes it was obvious with uniforms prevalent on the streets, or minarets rising among the sky scrapers, or even where collars were worn as a matter of course. Each time though Vinn would stop and hope and wait for Tabor to scry for Davor with thoughts of what he would say rushing through his mind.  The quiet glade was perfect for contemplation and scrying and as he had the numerous times before, he hoped watching Tabor’s cross legged meditating form  that the answer would this time be yes.

 

“I am sorry,” Tabor said, opening his eyes. “It is not this world either.”

 

The sting of disappointment had not lost its power despite numerous repetitions. Vinn steeled himself. “Then let us prepare to go once again.”

 

“Weaver at the Loom! Are you obsessed, Vinn? No! No more!” Vrosha said vehemently, folding her arms in protest.”We are your friends but sometimes that means stopping another’s madness, for that is what this is Vinn. How many worlds? How many?”

“It nears a hundred,” Kerith added. “This is foolish and impossible. What is happening here?”

 

“I have told you,” Vinn replied. “We are seeking the world of the heroes.”

“But no curiosity is sufficient to this purpose,” Valoran said unexpectedly breaking his thoughtful silence. He had not spoken for the last three worlds. “And no man alive can cross worlds with such frequency and not be drained. If this ‘new way’ of yours truly worked as you describe with us acting as source to each other, we would still be drained and incapable. Who are you to have such strength and what is your real purpose?”

 

Vinn drained of color. He should have known but he thought ‘just one more jump, they haven’t noticed yet'- he just kept hoping the next world would be the world. 'Just one more’ and he hadn’t given them enough credit.

 

“We are going to return to Fionavar,” Vrosha said decisively. “You have been lying to us, Vinn.”

 

“No.” The andain turned, facing them down. “You cannot leave without me, and I will not permit it!”

 

“It is the four of us against you,” Kerith said seriously. “Vinn, you are strong but not that strong.”

Anger surged in him, unleashed along with his burning frustration and the air swirled around them. “Yes, I am,” he cried out, knowing from the look in Tabor’s eyes that he at least knew. Perhaps it was a guess or intuition, but he knew. “You cannot hold me, you cannot bind me. Not even the lios alfar could clip my wings! If you will not help then you WILL obey me.”

Fear  flickered over their expressions, all save one. Tabor stepped forward. “You do not mean that,” he said calmly even as the wind grew, hungry for destruction, whipping at his long Riders hair. “What is your real name?”

 

He snarled a little at them, the itch to sprout feathers and fly strong in his heart. “I am of the andain,” he said knowing the distrust it would bring. “I have been named …Kevin.”

Many children had been named for the Heroes of the Last War in the days after, but he stood there appearing many years older. The threads of the pattern were visible to those with the wit to see it.

 

“Vinn…” Tabor exhaled. “Half a name for half a truth.  Named for Kevin, who was Liadon come again?” His eyes widened. “Is it the Seer who is your mother, or Davor of the Axe who is your father?”

 

“Davor… Dave Martynuik as he was called,” Vinn answered. They were too close to give up now. “You will help me. I *must* find him, I have to! You have no choice.”

Tabor shook his head. “Vinn, don’t do this. Not to us!”

 

“I will not be denied!” Kevin answered and the rush of power was exhilarating dark and tempting. He could do it, he could force them against their will, strike them down and impose what he desired. He raised his hands to draw the power to him and Tabor stepped resolutely in front of him.

 

“This is not the Vinn I know,” he said calmly. “This is not the bond we share. You have caused no evil before, do not start now.”

 

If it had been anyone except Tabor, hesitation would not have stayed his hand. Anyone else and the step would have been taken and a bright thread unravelled and a repeating pattern finding itself on the Weavers Loom. But for the Dalrei he hesitated, remembering laughter before the compulsion swept over him again, but it was a hesitation that lasted just long enough.

“Kevin, son of Ceinwen of the Bow and Davor of the Axe, stay your hand,” a quiet voice commanded. There was an authority in it that could not be denied and he looked around to see a slight looking dark haired man standing there with a taller scarred andain, complete with a splash of white in his hair.

 

As he raised his hand again in sheer defiance he heard Tabor shout “No!” -- but it was too late.

 

~*~

 

Paul had to admit that Galadan had experience in hunting that paid off as they chased through differing worlds that were more disturbing to him in being similar, but not quite right, to the world he grew up in. It was the jarring little things that made him uncomfortable rather than the different  creatures and people he had grown accustomed to on Fionavar. Still, they had managed through luck or skill as the wolflord would have it to find the trail and drop through the crossing points slickly, one after another, until they finally caught up with their quarry.

 

Just in the nick of time, too, as Paul found himself calling out to stop him, seeing the young andain turn and try to raise his power against him. And just like before, that was enough. The power  surged, thunder rumbling around them, the glow of the God’s lightning around him as he reached out and took hold of the young ones  shoulders, absorbing all that could be thrown at him.

 

“Enough!” he said and the voice of the God was mingled with his own. 

 

“Kill me then!” Vinn demanded, driven by the intense emotion of the young. “Kill me as would everyone else now they know who I am! That is what you are here for!”

Paul shook his head, hearing the wings of ravens in his mind. “No, Kevin. I am known for not killing those who court death.” He felt Galadan shocked to stillness by his side. “You stand at the start of a dark and dangerous road and I will not stop you from choosing, but once made, if you stand against the Light, I must oppose you. I am the Twiceborn of Mornir and I ask you, what is leading you here?”

 

He could feel the direction to tell the truth threaded into the power of his words and felt the wolflord shiver, even as Kevin dropped his head. “I seek answers, I see my father who has abandoned me, who has rejected me, and fled to leave me on Fionavar. If he is not willing to see me, then I will see him!”

 

So simple a thing, something so universal, and Paul not help but think of Darien and the mistakes they made. So much hinging on the need for love and approval or rejection that could be so easily reconciled.

 

“And would you hurt one who cares and supports you to do so?” Paul asked gesturing to Tabor who stood between them. “You are not the first to do this. Others have loved and lost, been left  and rejected or sought answers. “

 

“You talk of Darien, who is no more,” Kevin replied, his voice rough with anger and anguish. “Is this my future?”

 

“No.” Galadan stepped forward. “He talks of me. The hurt I did for love over millenia, to find my place.” His voice was raw. “I assumed, I felt love was owed to me. I believed a choice to be mine to control, just as you do here. It is not. No matter your power, Kevin, you cannot control love. It is a gift.  She gave that gift to another.” The pain was still there in every word, the anguish of loss. “It turned me. I knew I had the power to change things, just as you do now. I know what it is like to want something so much and feel it pulse in your blood to make it happen.  But I know what it is to plunge into darkness to do so and….” He looked at Paul then and nodded slightly. “Now I have to justify the forgiveness offered to me. Do not… make my mistakes, son of Ceinwen.”

 

Kevin’s face twisted and he looked torn and to Paul’s surprise, it was Tabor who spoke to him.

 

“Pwyll, if you would truly not see this future come to pass, then I ask you a boon.” There was something that made him pay attention, a hint of moonlight and secrets. Tabor had been in receipt of a gift of the Goddess and the thunder in his blood responded.

He inclined his head, unable to trust himself to words.

“Take Kevin to your world. Let this question be answered by action rather than torment, and poison him with doubt,” Tabor said. “If he’s turned away, then he will know that there are those who care enough for him to return to. If he is accepted, then his happiness is a reward to us all.”

 

There was silence as they awaited his decision and a terrible hope in the half god’s eyes. Could he do that? Was it up to him to set this thread in the Weavers Loom?

 

To hell with it, his time in Fionavar had not eroded the stubbornness born of Earth. They talked about choices,well he had a choice too. He could choose this as something to spend his energy upon. How many would have been saved if he had made different choices in the time before?

“Yes,” he said and thunder split the sky.

 

~*~

 

Dave examined the piece of fencing he had helped to repair, and gave a satisfied smile. He had never dreamed this would be what he would enjoy even just a few years ago. But the horses, the stables on the ranch were now somewhere that brought back good memories. The wildness in the foothill woods and forests drew him sometimes, even if he and Kim did not stay long in one place due to the demands of her gift calling her here and there.

 

The positive side was that he had used some of the hints deduced from her visions to inform astute investments. They had to be able to afford to run to Europe, or China, or the other side of the world if a dreamvision  came to her and the ranch was a home base that he allowed for them. Much like the area around Ysanne’s cottage, Kim said and had smiled. Her smile alone had been reason to buy the place as a home. It was a familiar echo of a world they had shared, and a sign of what they would share together.

 

One of the yearling horses came over to whuffle interestedly at his shirt as he straightened up, and he petted at them, comfortable around them now and at easy with his own physicality.

  
“Dave?” Kim was walking quickly down towards him from the tables, her white hair unmistakable, even from a distance.

“Hey. Come to help when the hard work is done huh?” he said with a smile, loving to tease her just a little. That was until he saw her more serious expression. “Uh oh, what is it? Trip to Australia? Alaska? Italy? Someone we have to see?”

“Someone coming to see us,” she said breathlessly. “There’s not much time…oh!”

The rumble of thunder was incongruous with the clear sky, and he looked around as the echoes died away.

“What the hell?” he said. “What’s going on, Kim?”

“It’s happening before I can explain, just...” She waved her hand to where a slight figured man was walking out of the woods.

 

“Paul?” Dave was oddly incredulous. He knew the time difference between Earth and Fionavar, but Schafer looked exactly the same.

 

“Martyniuk,” Paul greeted him, with that slight half smile he used rarely. A falcon was perched on his shoulder, unhooded and without jesses and Dave looked at Kim quizzically.

“Noisy entrance,” Dave commented, and Kim made a noise of disgust.

 

“You men!” she said embracing Paul. “You’re looking good.”

 

Paul didn’t answer to that and Dave realised the hair was standing up on the back of his neck and on his arms. The yearling horse whinnied nervously and sidestepped back and he unconsciously straightened up. He was not so unchanged by his experiences that he could not recognize signs and portents.

 

“Official business, huh, Paul?” he said feeling the growing presence of the God around them, overwhelming in its intensity.

 

The Twiceborn nodded his head and said, “Dave, I bring you a choice upon which many futures rest.”

 

“No pressure, then,” Dave answered, feeling unaccountably nervous. His hands prickled and his mouth went dry. “Go ahead.”

 

“David Martyniuk, I bring your son to greet you,” Paul said and the falcon on his shoulder took flight, circled, and then shimmered mid air into a young man who seemed nearly his age.

He froze in shock, froze as he said the name ‘Kevin’ in whispered amazement. A son he had been forced to leave behind, who was waiting with anxiety and hurt all over his face, held in his body. A son he had been forbidden to stay on Fionavar to take care of by the rules put in place by powers beyond his understanding. Stupidly, though he had known it was possible for the andain to cross worlds, as Galadan had pursued Paul and Jennifer, it had not occurred to him that his son might come to him. He had thought him bound by that which bound his mother. All he could think of was he could see his own mother’s eyes, dark and expressive in his son’s anxious face.

 

The pain in them, familiar as anything else, as well as the hope. This was his son, and he could feel the twist and warp of destiny around him. He thought of Jennifer, rejecting her son to set him on the path to his destiny. He thought of his own father, the scars he had left him with, and the vows he had made to never ever make those mistakes and there was really only one response to break the repeating pattern.

 

He opened his arms and embraced his son, with tears standing in his eyes.

 

 “Welcome home, Kevin… welcome home.”


End file.
